The Trials and Tribulations of Eustace Turpin
by fEmAleNoMad
Summary: Nothing ever worked out like he expected it to. Why else would he be bringing home a baby with him when he was much too old to be dealing with this mess? Perhaps he should start from the beginning. Then again, it still might not make much sense.
1. Act I

Act I: The Fortitude of Love

They rolled and tumbled across the sheets in wild abandon, laughing merrily. Her golden tresses rained on his face as he tried to kiss her, but she turned away, revealing the beautiful ivory curve of her swan-like neck.

"Shy already?" They had most certainly past any point of shyness after this afternoon. They had finally given into their love and explored the vast expanse of their bodies, creating a perfect union of bliss.

"I cannot kiss you," she replied "I a fortnight, I shall be a married woman."

He was flabbergasted, "But, I thought you loved me!"

"Oh Eustace, you know I do, with all my heart and soul, and though I wish I did not, I cannot!" Her large, liquid, cerulean eyes pleaded with agony, "Please, my love, try to understand. I need to marry Lord Crawford. Father and Mother would be disgraced from society if I turn back now!"

"But he is only marrying you for your money."

"And I for his title, that is the arrangement."

"I am to be a barrister soon, is that not respectable enough position for your family?"

"Not compared to a Lord. And you are still a student, you could not afford to keep me right now, and I cannot wait for you. The longer I spend with my family, the more I feel I will go mad! I should be grateful for my father's fortune in the fishmongery, but I doubt I can ever stand the sight of pickled Cod for as long as I live!

Eustace Turpin nodded in understanding. "Very well, but remember Tabitha, I love you and I only wish you all the happiness in the world."

(I'm reposting this as a multichapter fic so I can work out the kinks in the original. Plus, it was impossible to read as a twelve page oneshot, and there was no disclaimer. Though the only thing I own involving the Demon Barber are my ideas. I don't even have a copy of the DVD.)


	2. Act II

Act II: Wedded Bliss

He was not invited to the wedding, but he decided to attend anyway. It was a nice enough ceremony at St. Dunstan's. People dressed in lace and silk, dripping jewels, peering over at one another to see if they could spot someone famous. Eustace felt he would gag from the overpowering scent of must and flowers, but he managed to survive.

At last, he heard the bridal march on the organ. The woman playing it, possibly in her eighties, was slipping away from most of the keys, causing the organ to play mostly minor notes and created a foreboding sense of doom.

Tabitha was like a pastry in her cream coloured gown, a pure confectionary delight. Eustace watched her trudge down the aisle, her nails digging into her father's arm, and her misty eyes brimming with tears.

"Look at the poor girl, she must miss her family already." clucked a matronly woman in black.

"Nonsense," replied the other in grey, "She is just so virtuous that she's crying on her own wedding day."

Although he hated to admit it, Eustace also came to see her future husband. Not only was he young and part of the gentry, he was beautiful. He had an air of confidence and poise that perfectly complimented his delicate, but divine features. He had the countenance of an angel, but a rather sinister disposition hidden in the edge of his smile. He smirked contemptuously at throughout the whole ceremony. He had no family, so no one from the upper class was present for the joyous event. It was convenient for Eustace that half the church was empty, it was how he even found a seat undetected, but it felt odd.

"Miss," whispered the priest, "You are supposed to say 'I do.'" Tabitha was frozen, still unsure whether or not she made the right choice. She turn to Eustace, who shook his head.

"She says 'yes,'" snapped Crawford.

"Very well, do you…"

"Yes, yes, all of it, I do. Now, can we get on with it?"

"You may now kiss the bride." The priest said tonelessly. They shared, a quick, impersonal kiss.

Behind him, he could hear some shrill woman whispering to her husband.

"Look at the size of that ring! What do they think, that they're better than us, just cause they snagged some lord? Well, we'll show them. No one gets away with snubbing the Van Dorts! Our Victor's going to marry a lady one day!"

"But dear, Victor is only two years old."

"You know perfectly well what I mean!"

After the ceremony, people stood up from the pews, moving to and fro to gossip loudly and heading towards the reception. Crawford, who already seemed a bit tipsy, roughly grabbed his new bride about the waist and kissed her.

Deciding that he had enough of the ordeal, Eustace wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.


	3. Act III

Act III: Fate and Teapots

"Oh, Mr. Turpin!" You need to learn to pick after yourself, you do! Wot do you think I am, your bloody 'ousekeeper? I'm your landlady, and although I appreciate you payin' the rent in time an' all tha, you need to respect me more and wotnot."

Eustace carefully took off his coat and placed it on the rack before gloomily sinking into the armchair.

She ruffled her frizzy, red hair in anxiousness. "So much to do… Wot's wiv you anyway?"

He sighed, "Mrs. Andrews, she left me. For a lord."

"Good riddance, I suppose. She was such a silly little thing."

"But I loved her!" That changed everything. Within a second, Mrs. Andrews was quick to give him her motherly words of solace (despite being his age), and a bowl of her famous soup.

"You know, Mrs. Andrews, you are an excellent cook."

She blushed. "I try."

And so, life went on. Eustace graduated top of his class, and went to work with a firm. He tried for weeks finding out anything about Tabitha, but most of it was all hush-hush. He did discover that Lord Crawford was a gambler, who lost unheard of sums of money at horse tracks, and lost bitterly. He was quite the libertine before his marriage, and Heaven knows if her ever gave up his ways. He tried contacting Tabitha, but he would only receive a reply months later, with only a few lines briefly mentioning about how happy she was that she had never felt so happy in her entire life. Usually the letters were smudged beyond legibility, and Eustace wondered if it was due to the tearstains.

So, he took his revenge in the only sensible way an up and coming young man with a great deal on the line could do, he hired a painter to replicate Lord Crawford's portrait, and he would find time daily to glare at the finished product.

It wasn't until two months later that everything changed. Eustace almost fainted when he read he newspaper that morning in August.

NOTABLE LORD KILLED BY RUTHLESS BARBER

The late Lord Cadmus Crawford was brutally murdered in a duel by the barber Thomas Barker. Barker quite possibly deranged, accused Crawford of having adulterous relations with his wife. He delivered a wound right at the stomach, causing massive…

Eustace inwardly congratulated the man, though he would not have minded doing the sod in himself. Mrs. Andrews was about to pour him more coffee when she too saw the headline. She dropped the pot, causing it to crash into hundred little pieces and send scalding little drops of brown liquid flying everywhere. She screamed.

"Why'd he hafta go do that? Stupid Tommy, I told him bein' so impulsive's gonna get him in trouble one of these days, an' then he goes and shoots someone for that stupid cow!"

"Do you know this man?" he asks idly.

"He's…just a friend. Tha's all. She pauses, and notices the damage her distress caused. "I'm sorry, I'll pick that up." Eustace didn't really care, he went back to his paper until he heard her faintly sobbing as she was picking up the pieces.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Andrews?" Asked Eustace calmly.

"Oh, Mr. Turpin! You hafta help me!" she pleaded, "Please! Tommy's the only friend I've ever 'ad, an' its not 'is fault 'e fell in love wiv a 'eartless shrew, 'e wos just desprate, tha's all, an' irrashnal, 'e is, 'e'd neva 'urt a fly!" She honked ungracefully into her handkerchief.

"I'll see what I can do."


	4. Act IV

Act IV: Justice

"Are you mad?" screamed Matthews, a mentor of his (and incedentaly the prosecutor for the trial) "Defending Barker, on your first case? You will be finished, my boy. Finished!"

"I have substantial proof that I can win this case."

"But the man confessed."

"I was hoping we could forget that… and come to an understanding."

"Not this time, maybe when the victim is a little more destitute."

"Crawford has no money to speak of." Matthews paused.

"He has a townhouse, and a nice estate somewhere in…"

"All confiscated." Matthews grimaced, but then his face fell.

"How much?"


	5. Act V

Act V: Where There's Silver, There's a Way

"But sir," muttered Barker, "How're you going to get me out? I did it." The prison smelled of mildew, rotting straw and excrement. He leaned closer towards the rusty bars on the cell, and he could barely make out the freckles on Barker's face in the dim light.

"Not so loud," growled Eustace. "Where there's silver, there's a way. Tell me Barker, do you have money?"

"Yes sir, I'm a respectable barber, I get paid well for my occupation."

"Good, we'll need every penny you can get."

"Oh, thank you sir!" he sobbed, "I couldn't be happier."

"Don't thank me, thank Mrs. Andrews."

"Liddy? That woman does so much for me, she's easier to understand, and a real woman, not some flouncy lady." His face contorted in an odd way, as if he was having some sort of epiphany. "I probably should have married her. I love her you know, always did, but life always got in the way. Now it's too late."

"We can always make up for lost time, can't we?" Barker lifted his head, he thought that he'd never hear that warm, feminine voice again.

"Liddy!" She ran over to the bars, and laced her fingers in his. The warden came and fiddled with the bulky keys. He looked expectantly at her, but she shook her head.

"Can't promise you that, love. You'll only be getting just a few 'ours of my company."

He grinned, "That's good enough for me." Eustace noticed that his hat had fallen to the floor. He picked it up, tried to brush off any hay sticking to the brim, and promptly left for the door.


	6. Act VI

Act VI: Love Prevails

"All rise." It was cold and dim in the courtroom. The wind still drafted in every now and then from the storm, and the thunder shook with an intensity that knocked over a kerosene lamp every once in a while.

"Thomas Barker," the judged peered over at the scraggly, red-haired man. He was gaunt and sallow, his eyes bloodshot. "You have been charged with the murder of Lord Cadmus Crawford. How do you plead?" Barker glanced furtively at Eustace, who nodded curtly, then at the judge. "Not Guilty."

"Very well." Matthews went first, rattling off the story. Barker, supposedly not right in the head, challenged Crawford to a duel. Being a gentleman, he accepted, and Barker took advantage of the situation by shooting him in the heart. For proof, he showed the bullet used, and a testimony from a chambermaid who saw Barker come to the house.

"Defence?" Turpin walked up to the witness.

"Miss…"

"Mooney. Mrs."

"Mrs. Mooney, were you present at this duel?"

"No, course not. I had work to do."

"Was anyone present at the duel other than for Mr. Barker and the victim?"

She snorted, "How would I know. 'Snot skin off my nose."

"Very well, you may go now." And so she waddled away, muttering something about the amount of bloomin' cats wandering the streets.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I would like to show you the late Lord Crawford's financial records before he perished." He handed a massive stack of bills, and credit slips, most of which were stamped VOID. "Our dear friend here was in a great deal of debt. Probably would have been sent to prison any time before his fortunate demise. And, not only did he owe money to the Crown, but also to a great deal of unsavoury fellows (whom we will not mention), who would have come to collect soon. I would go as far to say that Mr. Barker here has been falsely accused for what we should consider a suicide, and with no other witnesses, the trail is meaningless."

"Objection!" screamed a voice from the crowd.

"Overruled!" screamed the judge as he slammed his gavel. "You are not allowed to object!"

"But, I was a witness to the duel." Everyone turned to look at the woman. She was small, and her clothing was worn and twice turned, but clean. Anyone could tell she was with child, the bump on her abdomen was impressive, but she had none of the glow of a mother-to-be. Her dark hair was ill kept, and her dark, feral eyes glared with a scorching intensity in no particular direction.

"Oh," the judge calmly asked, "and who are you?"

"Kitty…Barker," she replied with distain. There were murmurs throughout the court. The judge banged the gavel.

"Silent! Now, Turpin, why did you not mention this witness?"

"I was about to call her to the stand." He was going to have to think quickly to get out of this one, bribed jury or not.

"Now, Mrs. Barker," She winced. "How did you know the late Lord Crawford?"

"I loved 'im, and 'e loved me back. Seeing as 'e wos already tied down to a woman he couldn' stand, I could only be 'is mistress, but he said 'e'd marry me one day." She glared at Barker. "And this little whelp 'ere got jealous and killed 'im!" Everyone was silent.

"Mrs. Barker, you know that adultery is a sin, do you not?"

"It a sin to fall in love these days, innit it? To be treated like a lady every once in a while by a gentleman, and not by some clod who's not fit to lick my shoe? I tell you, sir, that man who I unfortunately call my 'usband promised me the moon on a string, and wot do I get? Nothing! I stayed at home an' did cleaning! Well, I'm not gonna waste my life, I take opportunity when I see it, an' when Caddy came, I loved 'im, and 'e loved me. An' there's nofin wrong wiv that!"

Eustace contemplated what to say next. "Did he ever tell you that he did love you? Did he say those exact words in a sentence? Tell me of an instance when it happened."

She glared at him for a minute, that huffed, "Well, 'e implied it."

"I thought a much. So, you loved him, and he abused your trust, but you were obsessed with him anyway, even to the point where you were willing to help him in his suicide in any means possible, even sacrificing your husband."

"No! That's not what I…"

"You may go now." She wailed, but the bailiff easily picked her up and escorted her out into the rain.


	7. Act VII

Act VII: Reunions

And that was how Eustace Turpin won his first case. The judge cleared Barker of all charges, saying that it would be punishment enough to stay married to his wife. Turpin did not stay to sit on his laurels though; he rushed over to find Tabitha.

She was less beautiful, her eyes were puffy and red, and she had wrinkles on her forehead and bruises on her face. She was massive, her stomach protruded in an unflattering way from her black crepe silk gown.

"How are you?" he asked breathlessly.

"I will manage. Somehow."

"How? You have no money, and the trial has probably disgraced you from society."

She nodded, "My family has already disowned me."

He cleared his throat and looked down at the bump. "So… how is it?" He couldn't bear the thought of another Cadmus Crawford running amuck in the world.

"She's doing fine," she smiled. "Kicking, always kicking. This girl's going to be a fighter, I can tell."

"You know it is a girl?" he asked.

"I can feel it." She paused. "I think I'll go for something classical for a name. What are your thoughts on Lucretia?"

"Sounds lovely." He reflected on this matter. "I cannot marry you, you know. It would be bad for my future prospects, but I can help you."

"Please, I do not want your charity."

"Take it anyway, for old times' sake."

"Very well. Now if you excuse me, I have a long walk back to my apartment, and I want to get back before the rain ruins my only set of mourning garments."

"You do not have an umbrella?"

"I do, but it is much too cheerful. As a widow, I am obligated to do without it."

And that was the last he ever saw of her. He did keep his promise, and sent monthly cheques, but that was it.


	8. Act VIII

Act VIII: In Memorium

With time, his obsession died down, and he was able to fuel his energy towards success in his profession, through creative ways. All of his desire turned to greed, all his compassion evaporated, leaving him bitter. And it paid off, he was eventually promoted to a judge. Granted, his life felt empty every now and then, but he had his books. He had become respected, and feared. He appointed one of his old alliances, a short, beady, podgy man from his school days, Bamford, to do most of his dirty work, so he had a great deal of free time.

So when he received an invitation to Tabitha's funeral, he thought he felt something stir inside of him, but brushed it aside. He considered throwing the paper in the fire, but stopped. Turpin sighed. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, he might as well go.

It was a chilly autumn day. The the spindly trees turned black from the soot of the factories clung to their blood red leaves falling in the wind. For a moment, Turpin thought he was the only person at the ceremony, until he noticed her.

She was like a rosebud, her pink face drooped elegantly towards the soil that buried her roots, the tears streaming down her face like diamonds. She looked just like Tabitha, in every way, almost as if she hadn't aged or died at all. Turpin wondered if this was a sign, that with her rebirth there would be a chance to begin anew for the both of them.

He gave up on the pretence of mourning and went to the young maiden.

"I see you look quite distressed."

"Well, she was my mother, and she died recently."

"Yes, it was terrible. Dysentery, was it?"

"Typhus."

"Ah. I'm Eustace Turpin, your mother may have mentioned me." Her face lit up.

"So, I finally have the pleasure of meeting the great and honourable Judge? Mother talked so well of you. She said you were the main reason I had a roof over my head, and nice dresses in the Spring."

"That's true," he nodded. "Now, Miss. I know you are in a very vulnerable position, as an orphan, and I thought I could be of assistance by offering you my hand in marriage."

She laughed. "That's very kind of you, but you should not feel under such an obligation, I am a married woman."

"Then where is your husband?" Blast! He cursed the heavens above for his fate.

"At work. He had a busy day and could not get off," Well, he was poor. Perhaps there was some hope.

"Very well then, perhaps I shall see you again."

"Perhaps not." She tied up her bonnet. "I won't be leaving the house very much, I'm with child." He let her walk away, but this was not the end.


	9. Act IX

Act IX: A Barber and His Wife

He sent Bamford off the find out more about her. It turns out her name was Lucy these days, Lucy Barker. Odd how things had a way of working out. Bamford found out that Barker's shop was located on Fleet Street. He decided to pay them a visit.

"Well, my Lord. I'm so glad you've heard of my humble shop. Many distinguished men come here, why, I've even shaved a visiting Viceroy of India!"

"You don't say," Turpin drawled.

Barker called from down the stairs, "Benjy! Come over here and introduce yourself! It'd be good for when you have a client base of you own!"

A young man scrambled up the stairs. He was young, pleasant, and charming. He was quite handsome too, with his neatly combed dark hair and high cheekbones, which may have explain why he was very self-assured and confident. The fool didn't even have the decency to not look like his biological father. Turpin found it easy to dislike the boy at first glance,

The boy extended his hand towards the barber's chair. "Very nice to meet you sir."

"Wait until I'm finished, Benjy," replied Barker patiently. Apparently he wasn't very bright either. "My son just finished his apprenticeship, I'm thinking of retiring soon, and handing the business over to him.

Turpin paid Barker handsomely for his services, it was quite a nice shave, and asked him for a moment of his time.

"Of course. Why don't we go to the pie shop downstairs? There are more comfortable seating arrangements."

The shop was small and cozy, with a warm smell of baking dough and spices. A young woman with frizzy auburn hair was scrunching her nose in concentration as she placed dough over the top of a pie.

"Hello, Nellie my dear! How's business going?" Mr. Barker asked jovially as he tried to grab a pie. She swatted his hand.

"Sorry, Mr. B, those are for the customers." He laughed.

"Always the businesswoman. Good for you Nellie, it'll do you wonders." They headed for a dimly lit table by the corner, Turpin didn't want to be noticed in such an establishment.

"I see you took the child in." Barker grimaced.

"I had to. And I didn't mind, seeing as I never had a son of my own, and he's turned out to be a good kid. A little simple, but he has a good heart."

"What happened to the mother?"

"Kitty? Oh, she couldn't stand it here, I think it was the responsibility that got to her, and reality. She ran off to join a group of traveling players that were passing through town. Haven't heard from her since."

"Oh! Mr. Turpin, I 'aven't seen you in ages!" Much to his surprise, it was Mrs. Andrews. She looked older, a great deal more fatigued with circles under her eyes, but a great deal happier as well. "'Ave you met my girl, Nellie. Such a bright thing." Turpin could tell. She was mousy and shifty, but she did look reasonably aware of things, and was wary of him as a result. Best to stay away from her.

"I didn't know you had children."

"Of course you wouln' wot wiv you movin' away and such. I 'ad Nellie a year or so afta Benjamin was born, maybe a few months less." She grinned over at Barker.

"Do you want a pie?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine thank you." Turpin quickly replied, taking his hat from Barker, "I best be off, it was nice catching up with you two."


	10. Act X

Act X: Add Ingredients, Mix Well, Stand Back

He planned to act right away, to take Lucy for himself and keep her, but cases kept getting in the way. It was a hot summer full of sordid crimes. As much as he wanted to proclaim they were all guilty (and in a city like London, it was probably true) and leave it at that, those stupid jurors would not agree on anything. The barristers would bicker constantly about the most trivial, asinine matters, and one's whole day could be wasted on whether or not the murder victim died of a stab wound or infection, how it affected the case and it would be a miracle if they could even find out who killed the bloody carcass anyway. So the days grew longer, the soot turned yellow, and the sewer stank as Summer reached its height. By then, Turpin had heard of the death of Barker and Mrs. Andrews on some ill-fated carriage ride through the park, and barely gave it any sort of concern. It only relieved him that they were dead, so he would not feel any guilt or obligation towards them.

He went to the funeral. It surprised the motley variety of customers, neighbours, and friends that came to actually mourn.

"Told you we would meet again." he whispered into Lucy's ear. She almost dropped the bundle in her arms. Turns out the lumpy, taffeta sack was a baby. She quickly introduced her dunce of a husband to him, and attempted to leave him as soon as the service was over, but Benjamin offered him to stay for tea. At least now he knew her address.

Now to get the idiot boy out of the way. He came up with the easiest offence he could think of off the top of his head, extortion. Now to overplay a fabricated situation, throw in a few well-paid witnesses to jog up their memory and make them honest enough citizens - to confess what knowledge they conveniently know, and you've got a good life sentence in Australia. Maybe a few forged debts here and there would also do the trick.

He sent the various paperwork and bribes in the mail, and waited. It wasn't long before she called upon him.

"Oh, your honour, you must help us," she cried, dabbing her eyes with a pink handkerchief. "I do not know how I will live without Benjamin!"

"The offer I gave you when your mother died still stands."

"You are too kind, but I am still married. Do you think you could preside over Benjamin's trail?"

He bristled. "I am supposed to be impartial."

"Well, do the best you can. I'd be so grateful to you."

He quietly sipped his tea, and decided to relent to her request. Who knows, perhaps it would be amusing.

The courtroom was abuzz as everyone waited for the judge to arrive.

"Benjamin! Of all people!" some exclaimed.

"Poor thing!"

"Good riddance!"

"Didn't know he had it in him," some murmured.

Benjamin tapped his foot anxiously, waiting. The judge was a good man, he'd understand this was all a mistake. He helped out his father, he must be a good soul. His father said so, and Lucy truly believed so. He heard the shouts of the people grow louder, he must be here.

"Judge Turpin!" he waved towards him, but he ignored him. No, he must have not seen him. He got a better look at the man, he hadn't seen the fellow in months. He looked older, he shaved his moustache.

Come to think of it, without it, he looked a great deal like that man who had been following him and Lucy around lately. The one who would give her strange looks when their backs were turned. (He noticed these things every now and then.) No, it couldn't be.

Yet, throughout the trial, he looked like he wasn't even listening to either the prosecution, or the defence. He was reading a magazine! Turpin never looked up at anyone, except far away at the back, towards a pastel yellow bonnet that looked a great deal like the one Benjamin gave Lucy for Easter. Maybe he had an interest in hats, that was it.

But why did he feel so sick every time it occurred?

The verdict was immediate, guilty, and the sentence was life imprisonment. Turpin didn't even bat an eyelid. He didn't care that he ruined his life. Flabbergasted, Benjamin shouted for his wife and child, to say farewell to them, but he was dragged away by two guards.

He did see Nellie wave sadly toward him, but he didn't really think too much about her. He struggled a little, and was able to get out of their grasp, and towards freedom, when he tripped on a pothole and fell into a ditch unconscious. He did not remember much else about his last day in London.


	11. Act XI

Act XI: Veritas Victorious

Now that the husband was gone, Turpin prepared to finally take what was deservedly his. Times had changed though, He had grown older, and didn't particularly want to keep her when he was finished. Perhaps he had grown more understanding of the world, and he was willing to send her back home, where she belonged. Or perhaps he was getting too old. Once he could put to rest his obsession, there was no real need to keep her anymore.

He decided not to think about it. He called together all of his closest (in proximity) acquaintances. He was going to throw a party. Masquerades were rather in vogue these days.

Lucy didn't know how to respond to the Beadle. It was awfully kind of the judge to be thinking of her, but she could not bear to enjoy her life when Benjamin was suffering so. Besides, she had nothing to wear. The Beadle said it didn't matter.

Well, a bit of night air would do her some good.

Although Nellie seemed a bit reluctant to spend her evening with the baby, Lucy assured her she would not be gone for long. The Beadle grabbed her arm and dragged her across the street, not even giving her time to grab a cloak.

Lucy coughed as she entered the Judge's main hallway. The coal-infused air was too much for her delicate lungs, and the soot turned her pretty white dress yellow. The music was insanely loud, and their drunken laughter was shrill.

"Oh! Look what the cat dragged in!" exclaimed a plump lady dripping with jewels.

"Yes," agreed a heavily bearded man, "She does look quite a sight."

She decided to ignore those comments and appreciate the decorations. It was not long before the judge called her to his study.

This was it. He offered her a drink, she accepted and sat down in one of the plump leather chairs. Perfect.

They talked about the weather, her daughter, and other innocuous things. She mentioned her upcoming birthday in April. (Which would have meant that she was born eight months after the wedding. He was sure Tabitha told him that she was born in July, hadn't she? Turpin briefly wondered if he should send the girl home, but shook his head. He was just overreacting. That's all.)

"Did you want to speak to me?" Not really, but if he was going to do this, he might as well gain some pleasure out of the whole situation in more than one way. She had refused him, after all, out of an arrogance that must have only come from her father. If he was going to be pained by digging up memories of her parents, she might as well have her suffer as well.

He told her the story of Tabitha, Crawford, and the Barkers. She didn't believe him. She couldn't.

"You have a sick sense of humour!" she screamed.

He laughed. "Did you ever know what you father looked like?"

She froze. Then responded haughtily, "Mother said there were no portraits of him."

"Because she probably never wanted to see his face again. There is one portrait remaining, it's over by the bookcase."

"Why do you own a portrait of my father?" she asked bemusedly. He gave no response. Actually, he couldn't really remember its purpose either after all this time.

Slowly, she approached the canvas. She laughed, "You know, this does have an awful likeness to… Oh my God." She vomited.

"That was a new carpet, you know."

"AHHHH!" She wailed. She cried, threw things and ran out of the room, tumbling headfirst down the stairs. He could hear each individual thud, and then a giant crash. She was tangled up in her gown, petticoats flying everywhere, as she screamed her head off. The guests downstairs were laughing hysterically at the sight.

"Oh, how droll!"

"What a daft creature!"

To save whatever remained of his dignity, he ordered Bamford to drop her home. He dismissed his drunken guests early, and decided to go to bed. Yes, he was getting much to old for this.

Nellie waited patiently for Lucy to return. Although she couldn't stand the silly little nit, she did promise to herself that she'd take care of Benjamin's family. He'd want that.

She heard a thud, and the sound of hooves clattering in the distance. She laid the baby down, and went to open the door.

Much to her surprise, Lucy was lying on the floor, huddled into the ball. She noticed the bruises all over her body and assumed the worst. Her sobs of "Never felt so dirty before in my life," and "They laughed at me! They laughed, in their stupid paper masks!" only helped fuel her morbid, girlish imagination, which she thought had died after she had gotten married. Luckily for her, Albert was asleep. She tucked Lucy into bed, and tried to let her hold Johanna, but she only screamed.


	12. Act XII

Act XII: New Beginnings

It was only a few months later when Turpin received a frenzied, messily scrawled plea for help. It gave him a familiar address on Fleet Street, and told him to come right away. He thought about throwing the letter away, but something told him not to. Probably boredom, for he certainly stopped feeling guilt years ago. Though that may have been the ability to feel his legs, which he had lost with the gout.

When he arrived at the tiny pie shop, it was a mess. People were packed in the place, screaming nonsense and demanding more ale. The woman charge looked frantic and ready to collapse from exhaustion. Feeling overwhelmed, Turpin went outside to clear his head.

Up above, he could hear a clear, eerie voice. "Rock a bye baby, in the treetops, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock." Suddenly, he saw two pale white arms dangle a small, chubby child by its legs. "When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby…" the arms started swinging the child. Surely she wasn't going to…

"Stop!" The arms stopped. He ran upstairs, up to the apartment.

Sure enough, it was Lucy Barker. Her hair was wild and unkempt, and her clothes dirty. She had put the baby down on the floor, and started spinning around in circles, singing Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush. Quickly, Turpin snatched the baby and went downstairs. Lucy laughed.

"Madam!" he screamed over the crowd.

"Wot?" She was busy trying to hear everyone's orders (but mostly complaints.)

"Why is the woman upstairs mad?"

"Wot?" she screamed. The baby started to cry, and stain his shirt. He was getting irritated.

"Why is the woman upstairs mad?"

"ARSENIC!" She screamed. The customers stopped talking.

"Is there arsenic in the pies?" One of them asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised," exclaimed another. Panic rose in the customers, and with a sudden sense of urgency, they rushed out.

"Now look wotchu did!" she berated him. "All my customers are gone!"

"Now you have time to take care of them." He pointed upstairs.

"WOT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING? EVERY BLOODY DAY! I have no time for myself, taking care of those two, my own husband, and making sure the business stays afloat. I'm up at dawn, and I… actually, I can't remember the last time I slept. Well, you know what, Mister High-and-Mighty, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I'VE 'AD IT! You try taking care of it all."

"I'm sure I'd do a better job." he retorted.

"BE MY GUEST! TAKE HER, AND THE BABY!" Her face was almost purple. She huffed, and puffed, and after having spent what little was left of her energy, she collapsed. Turpin threw some water on her, and she sputtered, but came to. After a few deep breaths, she was ready to listen to him.

" I see you are unfit to take care of Mrs. Barker, and unwilling to."

"You got that right."

"So, I am going to send her to an institution. Do not worry about the cost, I will pay for it."

"Where to?"

"Bedlam." She nodded. "What about the baby?"

"Surely you can manage that."

"Can't sorry." He looked at the mewing thing in his arms. It was fat, red, loud, and quite hideous with its face scrunched up like that. Turpin sighed. He never cared for children, actually, he hated them. He wondered for a moment what he had done to deserve this.

"Very well, I'll take it. But you'll never see the child again." The woman didn't get to say anything in response. He set the infant on one of the nearby tables, and made a mental note to send someone over later to tranquilize the whole lot. Heaven knows they would need it.


End file.
